


Forgotten Walls and Abandonned Spires

by PunsBulletsAndPointyThings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: GFY, M/M, Short, Sith!Qui-Gon, tumblr prompt from anon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5877898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings/pseuds/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-wan and Anakin are sent to kill a Sith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten Walls and Abandonned Spires

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this prompt from an anon on tumblr:
> 
> "(you should absolutely join in the sith!qui-gon chain with some quiobi)"
> 
> This got a away from me really quickly...

He tried to deny it, even as the Force whispered in his ear exactly what Obi-wan did not wish to hear. His ever steady stride faltered, just for a moment, and Anakin tossed him a concerned look. Obi-wan shook his head; he was fine. He had to be. They had to do this, he must not hesitate.  
  
The corridor was long, with arched ceilings reaching to the sky and cold gray stone floors that had their footsteps echoing off the walls. There was no other noise, only their footsteps as they drew closer and closer to the dark, pulsing point in the Force.  
  
Obi-wan pulled his shields tighter around him as the massive doors loomed before them. The building had once been a temple to one of the gods worshiped by the native population, massive and ethereal in its glory. Now, though, now those days were gone, and the halls had long ago been abandoned, to be filled with dust and the mournful howls of the wind. Obi-wan tightened his grip on his lightsaber, glancing at Anakin, who nodded in answer to his unspoken question. Exhaling slowly, Obi-wan pushed open the doors.  
  
The Darkness hit him like a wave. Beside him, Obi-wan heard Anakin’s hushed gasp and found he could only agree. This was wrong, so terribly wrong, and every cell in his body was crying out against it.  
  
The man stood in the center of the massive that had most likely once been the central place of worship. His face was hidden in the shadow of his hood, the black cloak wrapping his body like a piece of living shadow. He did not look up, but he knew they were there, of that Obi-wan had no doubts.  
  
Nor did he doubt the identity of their opponent, and he was their opponent, Obi-wan could not allow himself to forget that. He ignited his lightsaber, Anakin following suite without prompting.  
  
A deep laugh rang throughout the room, sending a shiver running up Obi-wan spine, and the man took a single step towards them.  
  
“Come now, surely this is not how you would greet me, padawan?” The voice that followed the laugh was so like the voice of Obi-wan’s memories that it made his heart ache to hear it so thickly layered with malice and scorn.  
  
“I am not your padawan,” he replied, keeping his own voice cool and calculated, raising his chin in defiance of the Sith’s words. “And I never was. You are not the man who trained me, not the man I knew.” ‘The man I loved’ remained unspoken and silent within his own mind.  
  
His words were met with another laugh, and the Sith straightened, pulling his hood back and letting the cloak slide from his shoulders, the fabric falling to the ground as silently and fluidly as ink.  
  
Qui-gon’s eyes had once entranced Obi-wan, blue as the sky over Tatooine where they had first met Anakin, and sharp as fine cut saber crystals, yet so soft and full of life and emotion that Obi-wan had often needed to look away as a younger man, to keep the words he so wanted to say locked away behind his lips. No longer; for now, those eyes burned, like coals, or something sharp and toxic. There was more silver in Qui-gon’s long hair than there had been the last time Obi-wan had laid eyes on him, and his black robes left his skin looking pale and gaunt. But it was the hate, burning in those flaming eyes, all but pouring off the Sith in waves, that truly struck Obi-wan and left him feeling hollow and cold, deep in his chest.  
  
Perhaps his shields were not what he had thought, or perhaps the shock he had felt despite himself, despite knowing what to expect, at the sight of his former master, had caused them to weaken, but something of the horrendous loss and despair Obi-wan was feeling must have shown in Force, for a smirk slid across Qui-gon’s too pale lips. At his side, his blood-red blade flared to life with a snap and a hiss.  
  
“The Council is foolish if they believe the two of you will be able to stop me. You have no idea what has already begun, none of you.” He sneered. Neither of the Jedi replied, and the Sith snorted in disgust.  
  
“So be it then.”  
  
The battle reminded Obi-wan of a deadly dance, the screams of saber blades cutting through the air the only accompaniment. Qui-gon fought as he always had, with a surety and skill born out of a lifetime of practice, but now he also fought with a dark, savage fury that Obi-wan knew had sprung from the man’s new ties with the dark side. To his surprise, he found it almost helped, help him separate in his mind the man he knew and loved, from the man he fought.  
  
Qui-gon too, he realized, was like the building in which they performed their dance; once a monument of light and hope from a time that felt long gone in the younger man’s mind, fallen prey to the creeping darkness that now seemed to have seeped into every stone, every cell.  
  
There were hot tears sliding down his cheeks as he spun, fighting back with the deadly calm this very man had taught him to wield. As their blades clashed, red on blue, storm cloud eyes met burning ones, holding them in an iron gaze. And as Anakin’s blade found its mark, sliding between Qui- the Sith’s ribs and those fiery eyes went wide with shock and pain, Obi-wan disengaged his blade, catching the black-clad man as he fell, and finally allowing himself to speak the words that had lived in his heart since his seventeenth year of life.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
He did not bother to hide his tears.


End file.
